


Underneath The Stars We Came Alive

by LilyRose9, Ninja_Princess48



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Violence, Domestic Violence, Fix-It of Sorts, Heavy Angst, Multi, Rape/Non-con Elements, The Way I want it to happen, True power couple, sanrion - Freeform, slowest of burns, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-14
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-05-07 02:38:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14661594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyRose9/pseuds/LilyRose9, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninja_Princess48/pseuds/Ninja_Princess48
Summary: Sansa and Tyrion are the true power couple of Westeros. What if their marriage went a little differently? Tyrion makes it his mission to make sure Lady Sansa is happy or at least not miserable in Kings Landing. What will he do when he discovers what his family has been doing to his young wife without his knowledge?**Will borrow from the show, but not directly follow canon**





	1. Summon All The Courage You Require

Tyrion entered Sansa’s chamber on the morning of their wedding. He could tell the girl was upset, being forced to marry the Imp. 

“I want you to know Lady Sansa, I did not ask for this.” Tyrion wanted the girl to be assured he was not in support of this forced union. 

“I don’t doubt that My Lord I just hope I can serve you well,” Sansa was ever one for the proper niceties of court.

“You do not need to speak to me like a prisoner. Today you are to become my wife, which I suppose is a different form of prison. I can’t begin to understand how you feel-”

“You’re right you don’t know how I feel,” there was some bite in Sansa’s response.

“Yes My Lady, I do not know how you feel and you don’t know how I feel so I suppose we are to make the best of today. Tyrion stepped forward and took Sansa’s hand in his, “But I promise you one thing my lady I will won’t ever hurt you.”

Tyrion saw a small smile forming on her lips and asked, “Do you drink wine?”

“Only when I have to,” Gods she felt like such a child. Not a woman grown on her wedding day.

“Well today you have to.” Tyrion knew the wine would help numb the poor girl against the whispers that would follow her now and for the rest of her life. 

They walked arm in arm to the high sept, knowing the entire court awaited them. Waiting to watch the Demon Monkey and The Disgraced Daughter wed. 

Sansa stood at the doors of the stept, everyone staring at her. Wishing so much for her father to be there, to walk her to her gallant knight. However her husband was not a gallant knight so it was only fair her father was not there either. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Joffrey approach her. 

“As father of the realm it is only fitting for me to walk, since your father was a traitor.” Joffrey forcibly took Sansa’s arms and lead her into the sept. Sansa held back a comment on Joffrey’s involvement in her father’s death, and swallowed as she watched the court swarm and whisper as they walked towards the altar.

Once they reached the altar where Tyrion and the High Septon stood Joffrey let go of Sansa’s arm and walked to stand by his mother. On his way to his mother he bent down and grabbed the small step that had been placed at the altar for Tyrion. Smirking, he tossed the step off to the side, narrowly missing Tommen. 

The Septon invited Tyrion to place his cloak of protection on Sansa’s shoulders. When he tried to reach he could hear the snickering from the courtiers. Finally Sansa relented and knelt so Tyrion could reach up. The rest of the ceremony passed in a blur, as did most of the feast. It was not until she was walking about greeting guests that she really became aware of her surroundings. It was then that she realized just how drunk her lord husband was. It wasn’t her dream wedding, it was a nightmare, and Tyrion’s drunkenness drove home her fears, she would never get that dream, she was trapped here, forever.

“You’ve finally done it you married a Lannister,” out of nowhere Joffrey was by her side. “Soon you will have a Lannister babe if you. I suppose it doesn’t really matter which of us puts it in you. Perhaps I will pay you a visit tonight after my uncle passes out.” Sansa stiffened at the suggestion, “Would you not enjoy that? No worries Ser Meryn will just have to hold you down then.” Sansa felt nauseous, she knew Joffrey would follow through with his threat. As she walked back towards her husband, she saw his eyes soften just a bit, taking in her white knuckled distress, and she knew at least he would try to be kind, as he had to her since he arrived.

As Joffrey lead Sansa back to the high table, he called for it to be time for the bedding ceremony. “Men please help relieve Lady Sansa of her clothes. She won’t be needing them. Ladies attend to my uncle he’s not very heavy.”

“There will be no bedding ceremony.” Tyrion pound his hand against the table. They were already forced into this travesty of a marriage, he would not have Sansa tortured by the slimy hands of Joffrey and his fellow nobles, she deserved better.

“Where is your respect for tradition, uncle?” Joffrey asked as he continued to try and get people to help him with Sansa.

“There will be no bedding ceremony, unless you would like to fuck your bride with a wooden cock!” Tyrion exclaimed and stabbed a knife in to the table.

“Excuse me? Did you just threaten the king?” Joffrey became irate. But Cersei and others saw wisdom in quieting the king and letting Tyrion and his new bride disappear in relative silence, though whispers followed them as they made their way out of the hall.

 

Once in the bedchamber, Sansa felt her fear ratchet to new levels as she watched Tyrion wander over, wobbling significantly less than when they’d left the hall. He poured himself another glass of wine with steady hands and she realized his drunken display with the knife, was just that a display, an act. Touched by his actions, but still fraught with fear she knew she had to do her duty as his wife.  
Sansa’s hands trembled as she undid the ties of her wedding dress. She felt Tyrion’s eyes on her, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how much she was shaking. When she finally got to the last tie, she let her dress slip off her shoulders. Staring ahead not focusing on anything Sansa wrapped her arms around her wait to keep the dress from falling to the floor. 

Tyrion couldn’t force himself to walk towards her. He knew she was trying to hide how much she was shaking, but he saw. He had seen her working intricate needlepoint, her hands were as steady as a maesters. The poor girl must be frightened of what comes next. Surely she’s heard rumors of Tyrion’s frequent visits to the brothels throughout Westeros. He didn’t think he had ever laid with a virgin, well none that he remembered lying with. 

“You don’t need to be afraid,” Tyrion said finally willing himself to cross the room.

“M-My Lord, I should have asked if you wanted to...” Sansa’s voice drifted off at the end of the sentence and her entire body tensed.

Tyrion was confused, did he really repulse her that much. The thought of his touch has her frozen in disgust. He approaches her trying his best not to startle her any further, finally he reaches out his hand settling in on the back of her dress. After a long pause, she released the dress letting it fall to the ground. 

Sansa turned to face her husband, rewrapping her arms around her body. 

“My lord, can we please extinguish the candles?” Had he not seen her mouth moving Tyrion would have chalked the noise up to wind.

“Lady Sansa, you have no reason to be so frightened. I will be as gentle as one can be in this situation. But if you would prefer that there was less lights I can blow out some of the candles.” Tyrion moved to extinguish the candles closest to the bed. “If you like my lady you can lay on the bed. I will be a moment, there are many laces on my boots despite their small size.”

Sansa climbed on the bed, despite her husband’s attempts to get her to relax she could not focus on anything other than what was about to happen. She knew he would try to be kind, be gentle, but he was not the dashing knight she’d always imagined. Closing her eyes Sansa laid back, her arms still wrapped around her waist. She felt the bed dip as Tyrion joined her. He began to gently run his fingers along her arms, her body tensed under his touch. Leaning next to her ear Tyrion asked if he could remover her shift, frantically she shook her head. 

“Okay, My Lady. I am so sorry that I am not the knight in the songs, but please understand that this is what is expected of us.” Wordlessly Sansa nodding knowing that it was their duty as man and wife. Tyrion had pulled away from her torso and repositioned himself by her legs.

Suddenly the air was on Sansa’s legs, Tyrion was pushing her shift up. She could hear him softly whispering words of encouragement to her. When her shift had reached the tops of her thighs, she reached out to push the shift back down. She could not do this, she began to weep. 

“Please, My Lord, I beseech you.” Sansa cried as she sat up.

“My Lady, I am many things but I am not a raper. I will not lie with you until you want me to.” Tyrion made his way off of the bed and pulled his nightshirt on. 

“And what if I never wish to lie with you?” He could hear the shame in her voice. 

“Then so it shall be. I will sleep on the chaise tonight. Please know I will not harm you Sansa.”

“Thank you, My Lord.” Sansa said as she climbed under the blankets on the bed, rolling over so her back was facing her husband.

“And so my watch begins,” said Tyrion raising the wine he had taken off of the small table in their chambers.


	2. Silence Isn't Easy

When Sansa woke in the middle of the night, she felt the presence of someone else in the bed. She rolled over the find Tyrion clinging so closely to the edge of the bed that it looked as if he may fall off. She reached out her hand to wake him only to have his eyes open, and have him inform her he was not asleep.

Sansa shrieked at the sudden awareness of her husband. Tyrion let out a small laugh.

“I didn’t mean to scare you, my dear. I have difficulty sleeping however I have gotten really good at appearing to sleep.”

“Just startled me is all, I have never seen someone look as if they were asleep when in fact they were awake. It is just new to me,” Sansa dropped her gaze hoping that Tyrion could not see the embarrassment on her face. “I was going to tell you that you don’t need to sleep on the edge like that. This is a very large bed and we are both rather small so it would be okay if you moved closer to the center.”

“How right you are Lady Sansa, we both can very well fit in the bed without any need for either of us to sleep on the edge,” Tyrion scooted closer to the center of the bed. “Why I think this bed is so big we could both stretch out and not even reach each other.”

“I used to hate sharing a bed with Arya, she would move so much in her sleep that she would kick me and wake me up constantly.” 

Tyrion was so taken aback at the fact Sansa was sharing about her youth, he was afraid that if he said something she would recoil back into her shell. Instead he chose the safest option and spoke as softly as he could. “I promise to try my best not to kick you, now let us sleep it is still early enough that we might get some rest.” 

Sansa rolled away, pulling the blankets to her chin. “Goodnight Tyrion,” barely a whisper escaped Sansa’s lips.

Tyrion waited for Sansa’s breathing to even out before he even considered moving, he did not want scare her more than she was already frightened. He watched her side rise and fall, the steady rhythm was something to be envied. Tyrion never had much luck sleeping, his mind was always too busy. It was no mystery why he found wine so appealing, it quieted his brain. 

 

Sansa woke as the sun began to filter through the canopy of their bed.The previous day’s events replaying in her head; she was married. Tyrion Lannister was her husband, she was to spend the rest of her life with a Lannister. They’d force her to have little Lannister babies. She would never have babies of her own that didn’t have those eyes, those Lannister eyes, those piercing green eyes that haunted her dreams. Her breathing speed up, panic set in, she couldn’t do this. She could not be married to Tyrion.  
Slowly she shifted the blankets off of slowly made her way out of bed. Sansa’s feet touched the cold ground as she found a dressing gown had been laid across their bed. She wrapped herself up and walked towards the window. Opening the window, Sansa welcomed the sounds of The Red Keep with a grimace. The yard was full of Tyrell and and Lannister soldiers sparring, with the upcoming royal wedding there were an abundance of young men looking to make a name for themselves. The thwack of swords making contact let out a ringing noise that elicited a squeak out of Sansa. Quickly Sansa covered her mouth trying not to wake Tyrion, with a look over her, she relaxed as her new husband just shifted in his sleep. 

Husband, oh how the old gods and new had forsaken her. Why hadn’t Robb come for her when he had the chance? She’d been trapped for so long, and now with a Lannister for a husband...she stopped, her thoughts turning frantic bringing her to the edge of hyperventilation. It wouldn’t do her any good to continue like this. She looked back over at her husband, his blond hair the only thing visible above the blankets. Out of all the Lannisters, he was the nicest to her. He stopped the beatings that day in court, he tried to keep her safe, even if it didn’t work all the time. He was kind, and though he wasn’t the gallant knight she’d dreamed of--no, she wouldn’t entertain that thought either. She was married to Tyrion Lannister and she would deal with it with grace, but she would never love him, she couldn’t, he was a Lannister.

Walking over to the small table off to the side of the room, she poured herself a glass of water, her hands trembling as the reality of her situation, or rather, her status as a Lannister wife, married, but not bedded settled in. Joffrey had threatened to rape her to get a Lannister heir, and she was certain that Tywin and Cersei would allow him if they had to. The Kingslayer may protest, as he had once upon seeing Joffrey hit her, but she doubted he would do more than that, he was far too entwined with his twin and her wishes. Tyrion had tried to be gentle last night, and with the threat of rape hanging over her, maybe she should just get it over with, better a loveless marriage bed with a mostly decent Lannister, then rape by the Butcher King. She was startled out of her musings as the very subject of them sat down at the table across from her.

Tyrion watched as Sansa jerked back, her blue eyes widening as she took in his presence at the table. Reaching over her grabbed a pitcher of ever-present wine and poured himself a glass. He had slept fitfully the night before, unable to get truly comfortable while lying next to his new wife. What the gods were thinking when they saw fit to throw the disgraced Lady Stark and the Imp of Casterly Rock together he would never know, better to drink than to muse on the clearly insane plots though. Sipping at the smooth Arbor Gold, he watched as his young wife looked out the window into the training yard below, her face paling by the second. How she had survived this long, he pondered. There was a core of steel in her, buried deep, he’d seen it on several occasions, but she kept in hidden underneath the guise of Cersei’s little dove. His eyes traced her form lit by the pale morning light, red hair tumbling down a pale neck and shoulders like a waterfall of fire. She was so young to have gone through what she had, and now to be married to him, it was a wonder she didn’t try to flee or kill herself before the wedding night. He remembered her trembling hands and wide, frantic eyes of the night before, no he would not cause her pain, he couldn’t hurt something so beautifully damaged, it wasn’t in him.  
“Good morning, My L-sorry, Tyrion” Sansa caught herself before she could finish the formality he had asked they do away with.

“Good morning Sansa. How did you sleep? I hope my tossing and turning did not keep you awake.” He wasn’t just saying what was expected of him, he truly did hope he did not disturb her sleep. She’s probably had so few peaceful nights since the day her Lord Father was arrested outside Littlefinger’s brothel. 

“I slept well enough, it is always hard to sleep in a new place. I supposed that I shouldn’t feel so out of place here, my room was just a floor below here.” Her eyes darted away from anywhere that could be mistaken as looking at her husband. 

“Sansa, you don’t have to hide your feelings in here. In these chambers you are free to feel all of your feelings without fear of my awful sister or my monstrous nephew. These are your chambers as much as they are mine,” Tyrion reached for her hand in attempt to comfort her. 

“This is King’s Landing Tyrion, you know as well as I do there is nowhere it is safe from the Queen and Joffrey,” Her eyes showed no happiness, but how tightly she gripped his hand signaled that she appreciated the sentiment of his words.


	3. Will They Know You Rewrote The Game

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to post. I promise I will try to be better about regularly posting

The tranquil moment was cut short when Sansa’s handmaiden Shae threw open the door of the chambers coming to wake the newlyweds for their breakfast. At the sudden noise the couple separated, as if they had been doing something they shouldn’t have been. 

“Morning, Lady Sansa. Lord Tyrion,” disdain and anger coated the Hands name when it left the handmaidens mouth. 

“Shae please remember to announce yourself prior to entering a room. Please excuse my handmaiden, Tyrion, she is still new. In Essos they seem to not care much about manners,” Sansa eyed the handmaid, debating if she was worth further trouble to scold. 

“Yes m’lady. What would you like to break your fast?” Shae asked as she went to change the bed linens. Throwing back the blanket Shae stared at the center of the bed. 

“Do you need help finding something?” Tyrion pointedly asked the handmaiden. 

“Shae leave the linens they are fine. Please go and fetch mine and Lord Tyrion’s breakfast.” Sansa commanded the maid with such authority that for a moment Tyrion was in awe of her. Obviously, Sansa had learned how to command a household from her mother.

“Yes, Lady Sansa,” Shae half curtsied and left the room.

 

Once Shae had left the panic set in. “Tyrion she knows, she knows that we didn’t. She is going to tell everyone. They will know and he will come here when you’re asleep and he’ll- he’ll-,” Sansa began to hyperventilate.

“He, who my lady? No one is coming for you,” Tyrion reached for his wife

“NO! He is, he will know. He will know and it will be- be-” Sansa began to pace and hyperventilate.

“Sansa! Please My lady you need to sit,” Tyrion raised his voice, he sounded like his father. “Please talk to me, my lady I know you are scared but you need to talk to me.” 

“Lord Lannister, your father. He will know that we didn’t consummate. That means our marriage isn’t binding and he can marry me off to someone-worse. Tyrion I can’t be married to someone else.” Sansa had just come up with the best lie she ever thought of. 

What was it that truly scared her? She knew that Joffrey would force her to have his vile little Lannister baby, even if she’d consummated the marriage with Tyrion. There was no point telling Tyrion the truth, there was nothing he could do. This was her problem she would solve it. 

“My lady I have been disappointing my father my entire life, it makes sense I will continue to do so. This will be blamed on me, please do not worry about my father. I will handle him, okay?” Tyrion kept his voice steady to calm his wife.

“Yes, My Lord. I just worry is all. It has been difficult being here, without any say in what happens to me,” Sansa let out a shaky breath.

“Well my Lady you are Lady Lannister, the only Lady Lannister in fact. I think you may have more say than you did before.” An idea popped into Tyrion’s head, “My lady today we will do whatever you wish. Just to show you how much say you have over your life.”

“I think I would like to walk the gardens after we eat,” Sansa loved being in the gardens it was the closest she could get to being in the woods of winterfell. Perhaps a walk will allow her to clear her mind. 

“Then to the gardens we go. Of course after we break our fast. While we wait why don’t you go and pick out a gown to wear. I know Margery had all kinds of dresses made for you, since you are now Lady Lannister. A new title warrants a new wardrobe; or some silly female nonsense.” Tyrion never understood women and their need for new things for every occasion. 

“That sounds lovely My Lo-sorry, Tyrion.” Sansa slowly walked to the hutch that held all of her dresses. No doubt while she was being wed to Tyrion, there had been maids furiously moving all of her things into her new chambers.

The new pile of silks worried her, she’d kept mostly to the northern style of long sleeves upon her arrival in King’s Landing, but with Margery as the one to design her new wardrobe, she wasn’t sure that could continue. Grabbing ahold of the first dress she saw, she marveled at the soft smooth silk, gold and crimson intertwined throughout the bodice red with golden lions embroidered along the hem. Holding it up she noted the deeper neckline than what she was used to, but it was still long sleeved. 

Rifling through the dresses she searched for something suitable for a walk in the gardens with her new husband when she came across a dress that took her breath away. As gold as the curls that covered her husband’s head, with intricate red embroidery on the bodice; no lions, just vines that wrapped up her torso, the neckline far more conservative than the others, raising her suspicions. As she turned the dress around she gasped, the back was nearly nonexistent, a sheer gossamer fabric that dipped from the shoulders to a deep v in the middle of her back. And there were no lions in sight, Lady Margery knew Sansa had her fill of lions in her life, Sansa couldn’t help but roll her eyes at her friend’s compromise in scandalousness. Running her hands along the beautiful dress she wished for a moment that instead of gold and crimson, it was grey and white, like the frozen North she missed so much. As she went to place the dress with the others on the pile she’d started she caught something out of the corner of her eye on the inside of the bodice. Turning the dress inside out, a cry escaped her, her eyes instantly filling with water. There, embroidered right where the dress would lay over her heart, was a snarling grey direwolf. 

Tyrion was reading the various things that he had missed the previous day. The war continued, it appeared the King in the North was to wed one of the many daughters of The Lord of the Crossings, but instead had married the daughter of some lowly lord of Tywin Lannister. Now Edmure Tully would marry one of the many daughters of old Walder Frey. With that alliance formed it would not be long until the young king was outside the gates of the city. Perhaps he should reach out to the wolf king and mention that he and the king were now kin. The thought left his mind when he heard a gasp come from the adjoining room. He got off his chair and walked to see what had elicited such a noise from his wife. Sansa was so caught up in her emotions that she did not hear the shuffling of his stunted legs. She held the dress to her chest, there seemed to be nothing special about the dress until Sansa had released the dress. A direwolf, inside the bodice, a small piece of her home. If anyone saw this she would be tried for treason and killed. 

“It would be best to hide that milady,” Tyrion said and Sansa quickly followed his suggestion, pulling out another dress to wear as he walked back to his solar. Sansa’s thoughts raced as she thought on Margery’s gift. While she was touched at the thought of the direwolf, it was dangerous for her to own, let alone wear while Joffrey was king and Cersei was in the palace, even if they couldn’t see it, she knew they would find out somehow.

There was a knock on the door followed by Shae entering with a tray of fruits and breads for the couple. She set the tray down with a clatter and with very little concern for the tranquility of the room. Sansa entered the solar to see Tyrion climbing on to a chair as he plucked an apple slice off the platter.

“Come dear wife, there are lemon cakes,” Tyrion knew that Sansa’s eyes would light up whenever there were lemon cakes. 

“I am here,” she replied as she joined Tyrion in the solar.

The two sat peacefully eating their breakfast in a comfortable silence. Once they had finished Sansa went to change to something more suitable for a walk in the gardens, and donned the first dress she’d unearthed that wasn’t as Lannister as the others. Calling out for her, she had Shae come in and help her with her hair. She was tired of the southern styles and went with a simple northern braid, the secret direwolf dress hidden behind the others in the chest giving her an odd sense of courage she hadn’t felt in awhile. 

After they were both dressed they journeyed to the gardens, where the newlyweds were met with snickers and whispered comments hidden behind hands. Tyrion could tell they were bothering Sansa. 

“Ser Eddrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Krakhold. Ser Eddrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Krakhold. Ser Eddick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Krakhold,” Tyrion muttered to himself.

“What are you doing?” Sansa questioned as the two men walked past them, not even bothering to hide their laughter. 

“I have a list.”

“A list of people you mean to kill?” The concern was audible in Sansa’s voice.

“For laughing at me? Do I look like Joffrey to you? No, death seems a bit extreme. Fear of death on the other hand,” Tyrion paused with a slight smirk.

“You should learn to ignore them.”

“My lady people have been laughing at me far longer than they’ve been laughing at you. I’m the half-man, the demon monkey, the imp.” Tyrion listed off all of his various name with the taste of disdain on his tongue. 

“You’re a Lannister. I am the disgraced daughter of the traitor Ned Stark.”

“The Disgraced Daughter and the Demon Monkey, we are perfect for each other.” Tyrion thought aloud as the pair continued to walk the gardens. 

“So how should we punish them?”

“Who?”

“Ser Eddrick Sarsfield and Lord Desmond Krakhold.”

“Ahh, I could speak to Lord Varys and learn their perversions. Anyone named Desmond Krakhold must be a pervert.”

“I hear that you are a pervert.” Sansa blushed at her bold words, after Tyrion’s chivalry the night before they were quite uncalled for.

“I am the Imp, I have certain standards to maintain.” Tyrion didn’t take her words to heart, he knew they were meant in jest.

Sansa got excited and quickly made her way to a bench and sat down. “We could sheep shift Lord Desmonds bed!”

“We could what?” Tyrion asked unfamiliar with the terminology.

“Sheep shift. You cut a hole in their bed and fill it with sheep dung. His room will smell and he will have no idea where it is coming from.”

“Lady Sansa!!” Tyrion exclaimed so surprised at the fact his innocent wife suggested something so vulgar. 

“My sister used to always do it to me when she was angry with me. Which she was always angry with me.” Twice now she mentioned her sister to him, she must miss her terribly, he resolved to try and find the younger Stark girl again, if for no other reason then to make his new wife smile.

“Okay, but why sheep shift?” Tyrion asked, making a point to brush over the fact that Sansa brought up her sister yet again.

“It’s a vulgar word for dung.” Sansa replied indignantly.

“Oh, my Lady.” Tyrion smiled at how much he had to teach his wife. His mind began to imagine the words, the stories, the knowledge, the games, the sex... The last thought caught him off guard, seeing this glimmer of happiness in her made him want to do everything in his power to make that her normal expression, be it finding her lost sister or getting her more lemon cakes. Maybe, if she was more content in King’s Landing, he could consummate the marriage. She was so lovely in the morning sun, her creamy skin just calling for him to--he pushed the thought away, she did not want him, and he is no rapist.

Podrick appeared on a nearby pathway almost running into some ladies in waiting, instantly blushing. “My Lord, My L-lady,” he seemed almost afraid of the new Lady Lannister, “Your father has called a meeting of the small council, Lord Tyrion.” 

“It appears I am being summoned, dear wife. I shall owe you a day in the gardens to make up for this interrupted adventure.” Tyrion bowed taking Sansa’s hand in his, pulling it towards his lips but not daring to actually kiss her hand. He was going to respect her wishes and not force intimacy upon her.


	4. Images Fill My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrion and Sansa learn some disturbing news and Joffrey is way too happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NinjaPrincess's computer basically blew up so I'm posting this chapter. As always we own nothing otherwise Tyrion and Sansa would be happy...and together.

Chapter Four: Images Fill My Head

 

Tyrion walked into the council room and was the last to arrive. He was greeted by a smiling Joffrey, which instantly set him on edge.

 

      “Show him. Show him,” Joffrey’s glee was more annoying than when he sulked.

 

      Pycelle handed the letter to Tyrion almost dropping it.

 

      “Roslin caught herself a fat trout. Her brother’s gave her a pair of wolf pelts for her wedding. Signed Walder Frey.” Tyrion read the parchment, not comprehending what it was supposed to mean, “Is this some form of bad poetry?”

 

      “He’s dead. Robb Stark is dead and so is his bitch mother,” Joffrey was bouncing with each step as he rounded the table. Tyrion froze, the news hitting him with a wave of distaste, followed by unease, his new wife was going to be devastated.

 

      “Send a letter to thank Ser Walder Frey for his service,” Tywin calmly spoke ignoring his nephew.

 

      “Make sure to have him send Robb Stark’s head. I wish to serve it to Sansa at my wedding feast.” Joffrey quickly added to make sure that Pycelle did not leave that part out.

 

      "You will do no such thing,” Tyrion’s voice was stern, he was tired of his nephew’s antics, he was more monster than boy these days.

 

      “The king is tired, please see him to his chambers,” Tywin sent his grandson, the king, to bed rather than listen to him plot against Lady Sansa. It was the height of stupidity at any rate, Sansa Stark was married to a Lannister, she needed to trust them not hate them, and letting her know they had a hand in her family’s deaths would do no such thing.

 

       “You just sent the most powerful man in the kingdom to bed without supper,” Tyrion said in shock after the king had been escorted out.

 

       “You all can leave,” Tywin dismissed the small council, “except Tyrion, you stay.” With the chamber cleared of Tywin turned his attention onto his son. “You are a fool if you think he is the most powerful man in the kingdom.”

 

       “He has the crown,” Tyrion replied with almost no delay.

 

      “You are a fool if you think a crown gives you power,” Tywin spat. He’d been the power behind the throne for years, everyone else who claimed to have it was lying.

 

      “No I think armies give you power.” Tyrion said not allowing his father to control the conversation. “Robb Stark had an army and you still killed him.”

  


While Tyrion and Tywin played there battle wits, Joffrey was escorted to his room. Once the guards had left him, he quickly left his chambers to find his new Aunt to share his news. He made his way towards the gardens. She liked the gardens, such a silly girl, still a child. Sansa was entering the hall leading to the Tower of the Hand when Joffrey found her.

 

      “Oh Lady Sansa, wait I have some news I wish to share with you,” Joffrey quickly walked to meet Sansa. He was bouncing on his toes, he couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

 

      “Your grace,” Sansa curtsied and hid behind her mask, nothing good could come of Joffrey’s glee.

 

      “Did you hear that your brother married? He was supposed to wed some Frey but like his treasonous father went back on his promise and married some low born whore,” Joffrey was barely able to hold back his glee.

 

     “I did Your Grace. He broke his oath, hopefully Walder Frey forgives him.”

 

     “Oh Walder gave him what he deserved. Bolts through his stomach,” Sansa broke and began to cry hysterically, it couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t, “and then they sliced your mother’s neck to the bone. They wanted to make a prize for me so the sewed that damned wolf’s head to his body. I’m having it delivered to for my wedding feast.” Joffrey was smile widened as Sansa’s horror grew.

 

When Sansa turned to flee, Joffrey roughly grabbed her tossing her to the ground. She was not getting away from him. “No, no, no My Lady you aren’t leaving we have so much to discuss.”

 

      “Your Grace, please let me go,” wracked by her tears Sansa struggled against Joffrey’s grasp.

 

       “Ser Kettleblack, please hold Lady Sansa standing I wish to look her in the eye,” Joffrey let the others do the work for him. “As I was saying, that traitor of brother of yours finally met with justice in the form of a blade. Perhaps you should meet a blade. Kettleblack hand me your dagger, I think it is time we mark Lady Sansa for the traitor she is. Perhaps a mark similar to the ones they gave her brother.”

 

Taking the knife from the Kingsguard, Joffrey ran a finger along the sharp blade, his green eyes dancing like wildfire along the skyline, a pale-sickly green. Gripping the knife Joffrey began to trace the delicate filigree of Sansa’s dress with the blade.

 

       “Your Grace you know I am loyal to the crown and to you. I know that my brother is a traitor and that you are the rightful King. Please I am your aunt, how will it look if you hurt me.” Sansa’s pleas fell on deaf ears as Joffrey scoffed at her and continued.

 

       “It won’t look like anything because you will keep your little wolf bitch mouth shut,” Joffrey pushed the blade a little harder, breaking threads. “Mother says I’m not allowed to mark your face so instead I will mark somewhere that’ll be just ours. Since we all know my uncle is too drunk to notice anything.”

 

Ser Kettleblack had positioned himself behind the Stark girl holding her arms behind her back so she couldn’t fight back. His king reached down and grabbed the hem of Sansa’s dress, lifting it to expose her thighs. Sansa trembled at his touch, bile rising in her throat.

 

      “Such a pure white porcelain, best mark it so you are never confused with a proper lady. Since we all know that you are in no way a lady. Just some wilding bitch posing as a high born.”

 

     “Please your grace, please let me go. I will have a child and it will be the heir to the North and he will be loyal to you restoring the North to your control.” Sansa’s words fell flat, her entire being shaking at the thought of being at the mercy of the monster before her. She longed for the days in Winterfell where her greatest fear was Arya ruining her needlework.

 

     “What I am going to do is take this blade and make sure that no matter what you will always been seen the traitor bitch.” Joffrey took the blade and raked it across Sansa’s thighs. Little rivulets of blood sprang from the alabaster white flesh. Sansa’s cries wracked her body, Kettleblack struggling to hold her. With three more swipes of the knife Sansa’s thighs were just lines of blood. The deep gashes began to form a crude sketch of the letters WH along the length of her thigh, the blood dripping down her calves to the ground beneath them. Sansa kept her cries to herself, bottling up the screams that wanted to get out, she would not give him the satisfaction.

Glee gleamed in Joffrey’s eyes as he started the next letter, the knife curving along her leg, when suddenly voices began to sound from down the corridor. Pausing in his carving, the mad boy-king looked up at his sworn knight, who had stepped away from Sansa, “What, what are you doing?”

 

     “Your grace, people are coming. It’s best if we stop now, we wouldn’t want people to think you were lowering yourself to consort with the Stark bitch,” Kettleblack replied, his head turning towards the increasing noise.

 

     “I don’t pay you to think...but yes you’re right,” pulling the knife away, Joffrey let Sansa’s skirts fall to the ground, patting her thigh he gave her a wide grin, “Now run along like a good whore and go make a Lannister baby with my uncle, or I’ll see to it that there’s one in your stomach soon.”

Sansa stood there, blood dripping down her legs as she shook. She knew Joffrey was a monster, knew that he had no issue hurting her, and that he’d threatened to do worse, but knowing things and having them happen...she’d never thought he would, do such a thing. No, she shook her head, she did know that he would, but she’d thought that it would be behind closed doors in the dark, not in the middle of a hall at noontime. And gods, her brother...Robb, and her mother. Tears that she’d held in for so long as Joffrey carved into her came spilling out, great wracking sobs intermixed with gasps and full body shakes that had her curled against a pillar on the ground. She didn’t know how long she was there on the ground, sobbing and pleading for the gods to save her, to save her family, for it not to be true, but deep in her heart, she knew it was.

  
She was alone.


	5. We Rise and We Fall

Tyrion made his way back to his chambers expecting to find his lady wife within. He knew he would have to break the news to her. It would be better coming from him than anyone else, especially his deprived nephew. After climbing all of the bloody stairs that caused his legs to ache; he entered their chambers and was stunned to find that they were empty with the exception of Podrick Payne. 

“Pod, did Lady Sansa return from her walks in the garden?” It was unusual for Sansa to stay out of their chambers longer than absolutely necessary. 

“N-no S-s-sir.” Podrick stammered out. 

“Fetch Bronn, I want Lady Sansa found immediately,” Tyrion barked at his young squire.

Tyrion began to conscript any and every household guard he could find to help search for his wife. His stunted legs ached as he paced their chambers, this was unlike his wife. She hated the capital, what on earth would make her decide to stay out. Perhaps she ran into Lady Margery and the queen of thorns in the gardens. Sansa did enjoy the company of the women of Highgarden. 

 

Bronn walked the halls leading to the Hands tower, for what seemed to be the uptenth time. Of course the imp had to marry a child that requires a search party, though he knew the Stark girl was quickly outpacing the status of child and turning into a young woman. As he wandered along, taking a sharp turn down a corridor, hand on his sword, he wondered if Tyrion would ever man up and actually fuck his wife. Though young, she was a pretty thing, and it’d be better for all their sakes if he did. His eyes scanned the corridor, it was getting dark faster these days, and damned if he didn’t feel the chill of winter’s breath slowly creeping in on the city. Making a sharp turn around a blind corner, he jerked to a halt, a small flash of red hidden along an alcove a few feet away caught his eye. Slowly, he made his way towards the increasingly obvious form of Sansa Stark-Lannister. She hadn’t seemed to notice him, so caught up in herself. She wasn’t crying to his surprise, her body seemed still and as he got closer, her Tully blue eyes seemed-vacant. It was then that he noticed something very wrong, she was pale, far too pale, even for a Northerner. His eyes flicked to the ground and narrowed, a pool of blood was puddled alongside her. Something was definitely wrong.

Placing a hand on her shoulder Bronn worried she was dead, she was so cold. Sansa startled at the rough hand on her shoulder. Her face turned towards the knight but her eyes didn’t focus on him. Bronn looked past the girls face noticing the pool of blood she was sitting in, fucking hells, that was a lot of blood. 

“Can you stand, girl?” The knight did not wait for her answer instead he lifted her and started up the stairs to her chambers.   
“Where did you find her?” Tyrion asked as Bronn pushed his way into the chambers. “Why are her skirts covered in blood?” 

“She was the down the hall in an alcove. I don’t know, I found her like this.”

“Sansa…”Tyrion tried to catch his wives attention, but her focus was a million leagues away. “Pod, go find me a maester! Now! Quickly!”

“Why did you leave her alone?” Shae snapped as she began to try and tend to her Lady. “You were supposed to keep her safe.”

“Thank you for your input Shae, why don’t you go and help Pod find a maester if you are so concerned about Lady Sansa.” Tyrion spat through a clenched jaw. The camp follower had gone too far. She had overstepped for the last time. He looked after Sansa the best he could in this pit of lions.

Sensing the tension, Bronn began to usher out everyone with the exception of himself and one other Lannister guard who he posted at the door; with strict instructions to only allow Podrick and Maesters into the chambers. 

 

Frantically, Pod ran to the Maester’s chambers. He had known something was wrong when he had returned to the chambers and Lady Sansa wasn’t there. He looked for her briefly in the rooms closest to their chambers, but was unable to find her. He quickly became worried, Sansa was kind and sweet, and very unable to protect herself.

“Maester come quickly, it’s Lady Sansa,” for once Pod did not stutter. This was too important to be awkward, Sansa needed him to be brave.

Why must the maesters chambers be so far from the Tower of the Hand, the newly arrived to King’s Landing maester thought as he followed the squire. Thankfully Marwyn was not as old as Pycelle, and so he moved with some urgency. Pod walked behind trying to herd the man faster towards the Tower of the Hand.

Never in his life had Tyrion felt more helpless; not when his father made him watch an entire barracks worth of soldiers rape Tysha, not whenever he was forced to play the game on behalf of his sister, not even on Blackwater Bay when Stannis’ fleet was engulfed in wildfire. However seeing Sansa Stark, skirts covered in blood and her skin so pale, scared him to the core. Eventually the pain of pacing became too much, he sat next to his wife holding her hand silently begging her to just hold on until the maester arrived. 

Usually her eyes were as blue as sapphires, but right now they were grey. The same grey that had filled Ned Stark’s eyes. She truly was a Stark. It was the strength she had grown up with in North that was keeping her safe here in the horror that was King’s Landings. Reaching out Tyrion brushed a piece of hair out of Sansa’s face. 

The door swung in and Marwyn entered with Pod following closely behind. The first rushing into the bedchamber to attend to the injured. 

“My lord, I think it best you leave the chambers while I examine the lady,” Marwyn carefully suggested to Tyrion.

“No, she is my wife. I can’t leave her like this.” Tyrion had no desire to leave Sansa’s side.

“Come on, you fuck,” Bronn grabbed Tyrion’s shoulder trying to urge him to walk under his own accord. “Look here, you either walk out of here on your own or I pick you up and carry you out of here like a sack of potatoes.”

Begrudgingly Tyrion climbed off the bed and placed a kiss on Sansa’s hand giving it one last squeeze. Unsure if the gods were playing a cruel joke on him or if it actually happened, he felt her squeeze his hand in return. 

The maester put Podrick to work, sending him to fetch clean linens and hot water. The young man was in and out of the bedchambers, while Tyrion paced the outer chambers, Bronn managed his worry by drinking vessel after vessel of Dornish Red. 

 

Finally after what seemed to be hours Marwyn emerged closing the chamber doors behind himself.The look on his face caused Tyrion’s heart to fall into the pit of his stomach. 

“She will survive her wounds, but I am deeply concerned that the lady inflicted these wounds to herself. It is no secret that Lady Sansa has been deeply troubled as of late.” Marwyn wiped his hands on his robes, awkwardly waiting to be dismissed by Tyrion.

“How did this happen? This is the Red Keep, there are guards are everywhere. How in the name of the seven was a highborn lady attacked?!?!” Tyrion’s anger had turned his voice into a roar like the lion on his houses banners. 

“Well like I said they seem to be self inflicted wounds…” Marwyn let his voice trail, eyes darting between Bronn and Pod pleading for help.

“Hey you chained prick, how could she have done that to herself? There was no fuckin knife. Ain’t no one going to be able to handle losing that amount of blood. You damn fool,” Bronn stepped between Tyrion and Marwyn, grabbing the latter by his robes. 

“Maester please leave before Bronn here does something you will regret.”   
“Very well, then I gave the Lady milk of the poppy, she should sleep through the night. If she wakes give her a glass of dreamwine. Come morning she will be in a great deal of pain and will need her wounds cleaned and rebandaged. Please send for myself or any of the other measters.” Marwyn bowed and left the room. 

“How could this have happened? I know she is unhappy but could she have possibly done this to herself? I’ve heard stories of maidens hurting themselves but Lady Sansa is of the North. She is much too strong to do such a thing.” Tyrion’s words started slurring, all of the wine and the stress from the last hours events finally taking its toll on him.

“Pod go get the former Hand some supper. He is going to need to maintain himself and bread will help.” Bronn sent Podrick away to get the two men enough food, wine, and ale for the rest of the evening; knowing neither would be sleeping anytime soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update. Hopefully I'll have more time to write and update more regularly


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